The Secret Life Of Benjamin Jones
by Elstro1988
Summary: Total departure for me. First attempt at fic for this show. Set after Blood Wedding so features Troy. DS Ben Jones has a somewhat double life that he prefers to hide from his boss. However when another bloody murder occurs, he finds he has been implicated more than he ever could have hoped...
1. Chapter 1

**The Secret Life Of Benjamin Jones**

_This is totally new territory for me. I've always liked the show Midsomer Murders and I don't think I'd be good enough to write a new mystery even though I adore whodunnits and crime dramas. OK. I'm lying. I just happen to find Ben Jones (Jason Hughes) hot as fuck and after seeing him showering in two episodes (Oblong Murders especially...SWOON)..well yes. _

_Only trouble I'm facing is lack of a slash partner for him. Actually...Troy was nice looking...even if he was a bit of a douchebag. _

_I've not seen a vast amount of episodes so this is set just after one I watched recently - Blood Wedding from 2008. Ben was extra sassy in that episode which I liked ;) Contains references to that episode by the way. _

_Not affiliated with the long running ITV series or the works of Caroline Graham. Just based upon it purely for entertainment. Only own the short term character 'Mark'._

* * *

DS Ben Jones had seen plenty in his time as sidekick to the workaholic yet always easygoing DCI Tom Barnaby. Brutal beatings, crimes of passion, incest, families who off loved ones for money...art forgery...you name it, Ben had seen it. Behind the chocolate box facade of these genteel villages lay corruption and criminality that was worse than inner city London.

Currently he and his boss were investigating three brutal murders involving the aristocratic, old English Fitzroy family in the village of Bledlow. Whilst Cully was getting married. And Ben was getting close to the Fitzroy's shapely housekeeper Sally. Well. He was trying to, mainly to keep up appearances.

As if Ben didn't feel enough of an outcast being Welsh in this most Middle English of English counties, he was also trying to keep his true intentions away from his boss. Tom and Joyce had been so good to him, they were almost like second parents. And he swore Cully treated him like a brother. Not that he was interested in pursuing her. She was blonde, tall and pretty but a) screwing the boss's daughter was an absolute no-no, and b) well, she was getting married.

And Ben wasn't actually interested in women.

Despite kissing Sally.

If he was honest he'd have been more into that younger Fitzroy brother. But this family of upper class pricks were so uncooperative and snotty, especially that Colquhoun (whom Ben took enormous pleasure in winding up by mispronouncing his name on purpose).

Cully's wedding eventually went off almost without a hitch, and Tom managed to be there in time to walk his daughter down the aisle. Ned Fitzroy had been apprehended for the murders of the bridesmaid Marina, his secret half brother and former housekeeper. Ben was still left feeling a bit of an idiot as he'd gone to arrest the other one at the same time...well it wasn't a total waste of time. He'd got to touch him. Closest he'll ever get to a bit of posh. Not that Ben was normally predatory..

* * *

At last Ben could chill out at the wedding reception. Lord knows he needed to after this case. He swore that's all the upper classes were about. Money, honour and sex. Better to be a commoner, that's all he'll say. Colky-hun indeed. What a dick.

He was stood at the bar of the hotel, beer in hand, watching the guests at large. He'd even invited Sally as his plus one to complete the image and Joyce just wouldn't stop gushing over what a nice couple they made. She'd already invited them over for dinner whilst Cully and Simon were in New Zealand. She was so predictable. There was a few nice looking guys here that caught his eye.

He was so sick of one night stands though. He was edging closer to forty than thirty now and he really would have liked to have settled down by now. So many of his ex shags had been turned on by doing a copper but turned off by the working hours. He did wonder how Joyce remained so chilled and friendly despite Tom spending more time working than he ever did at home.

"Not going to ask her to dance?" came a voice.

Speak of the devil.

"Oh...hi Joyce," Ben replied.

"She's a lovely girl that Sally," his boss's wife beamed, "Maybe you'll be next to walk up the aisle!"

"I don't think so...not known her that long," Ben said, cheeks rather pink and smiling, "And the boss doesn't approve anyway because I met her on a case."

"Take no notice of Tom," giggled Joyce, "It's about time you got yourself a girlfriend!"

"She might not be into the marrying a copper thing..." Ben trailed off before re-engaging brain, "I don't think she'd be another you..."

"Such a sweet boy, I always liked you Ben," the boss' wife replied, clearly alittle merry on the champagne, "You could always impress her with your beautiufl tenor..."

Ben blushed again.

He'll never forget the time she caught him singing in the shower and roped him into joining the village choir contest. OK they won that competition thanks to Bullard moonlighting as a conductor but still...it was what, two years ago now?

"I gotta...go..." he mumbled, eager to escape this interrogation. He made a beeline for the gents.

This was so embarrassing.

How much longer could he keep this up? Sally had twigged him to be gay after their date. She'd even AGREED to be his beard for the wedding! Wonder if he could slip away...go to the Boathouse in Causton...the area's only gay pub. For miles. Unless you headed for Brighton that is. But that'd be pretty crap form, buggering off to Brighton to get a shag because you can't take the heat of your boss's wife asking about your love life..anyway.

Ben studied his reflection.

Hmmm.

Unbuttoned his shirt a little.

He could be in better shape, but being on the job so often meant unlike most other gay men his age he couldn't live in the gym sculpting the perfect deltoids. But he'd never had any complaints. Especially about his arse.

The door opened and Ben pretended to wash his hands, trying not to look like he was hiding in case it was a full of beer and bonhomie Tom.

"I saw you," came a male voice.

"Who wants to know?" spluttered Ben.

He turned to see a man, about Cully's age staring at him. Damn he was nice. Ben had been guilty for checking him out during the speeches. Slightly posh. One of Cully's old pals from uni probably. She did go to Cambridge.

Well kept features, chiselled jaw, piercing blue eyes. Ben smiled apologetically.

"Didn't think there'd be anyone on our bus here," the man smirked, "Certainly not any of the coppers."

"Like coppers do you?" Ben chanced.

"Depends," the man purred. His suit concealed an extremely fit body.

"On what?" Ben said.

"Uniform or plain clothes?" the man asked.

"Plain," Ben said, "Like uniform do you?"

"Well doesn't matter once it's on the floor," smirked the man, getting into Ben's space and stroking his cheek. Ben stared into his eyes.

"You staying here?" he asked.

"Yep," the man replied.

"Can't let them see me leave with you, got a reputation you know," Ben grinned, leaning forward to claim the guy's lips. Damn this guy kissed nice. Fancied himself a bit but who the hell cared?

* * *

Gavin Troy had to admit it had been weird to come back to Midsomer after all this time. Cully looked happy. She had been nice (and a good kisser) but not worth straining the good relationship he'd had with DCI Barnaby. And as usual the forbidden girls always were the best looking. Cully suited long hair. Ah well. That was the past.

He wouldn't have missed this wedding for the world.

His second successor...what was his name? Jones? Bit wet if you asked Troy. Nice enough bloke, he supposed. Just a little boring. Nice looking girlfriend he had though. What was her name? Sally? Red hair?

Again she was taken. Never mind.

He hadn't come back to his old boss's daughter's wedding to get laid. He'd gotten married after his promotion but it hadn't worked out. Amicable but his ex wife just couldn't get along with his long hours. Maybe it was best to marry into the force. He headed to the gents to go for a slash.

As he entered the bathroom, whistling inanely to himself, he could have sworn he heard something.

Nah.

The stall was locked.

He heard a stifled laugh.

OK.

Weird.

Maybe someone watching a funny video on their phone.

THinking nothing of it, Gavin went to wash his hands.

As he grabbed some paper towels, he slipped a little and with a loud clatter, his own phone fell from his inside jacket pocket. THe damn thing had only gone and got a hole! ANd he'd paid bloody good cash for this suit and all. Oh well. He kneeled down to retreive his phone which had fallen on the terracotta tiles near the stall. Gavin quickly reached over, not wanting to be caught like this...when he realised those were two pairs of shoes between the partition and the floor.

Yuck.

Fucking bumboys!

Didn't think Barnaby KNEW any?! He knew CUlly had a 'gay best friend' at Uni but that was AGES ago! Well eight years or so but still...seriously? At a wedding? In a hotel bathroom? Classy or what.

Gavin darted from the bathroom in disgust.

* * *

Inside, Ben and his conquest were both gasping, red in the face after being caught out.

"Knew we should have gone to my room!" the posh man said, "Horny little fucker! Suppose being on the job keeps you from getting some."

"Damn right," Ben panted as the man pulled out of him, "Sorry mate. Maybe another time. How long you down here for?"

"Only another day, then back to Cambridge," the guy said, "But...if you want an encore later..."

"Hell yes," Ben smirked, "Only, I should ask what is your name?"

"Mark," the man said, redressing, "And I can't keep calling you copper can I?"

"Name's Ben...Ben Jones," Ben said, "I'll get you a beer...to say sorry."

"With an arse like yours there's no sorry," smirked Mark, playfully spanking Ben's smooth, naked backside, "See you later."

He unlocked the door and left the room as Ben made himself a touch more decent.

He padded to the mirror. A lovebite. Mark was rough. But that wasn't a bad thing. Ben liked to be roughed up. Suppose it came with wearing a suit for the job. Even if it was a 24 hour fling, it was nice. He hastily shuffled his shirt collar up to hide the hickey and exited the bathroom.

* * *

Gavin Troy was watching to see who the shirtlifters were...that posh git friend of Cully...thought as much...and wait...that was Barnaby's current sidekick! Did Barnaby KNOW?

Troy wasn't an arsehole, well he liked to think he wasn't. But he just didn't understand poofters. Gays, whatever. He remembered Dennis Rainbird from years ago. God he was a freak. OK he was dead but still, Gavin had been freaked out by him. And Jones to be fair did seem a normal sort of bloke. Not dancing around like Graham Norton. Gavin took a deep breath and headed to the bar just as Ben did.

Ben nodded pleasantly at him.

"Having a good day?" asked Gavin, failing to keep the snark from his voice.

Ben fixed him with a curious look.

"Yeah...Cully looked great," he said, "Didn't you and her..."

"Ancient history mate," Gavin said, "What you getting?"

"Another beer, anything," Ben said, straightening his tie a little, "So...miss all this?"

"What? Same in my current post," Gavin said, "Now tell me, is Joyce's food any better?"

Ben chuckled.

"She tried to impress you with her roast quail as well?" he said.

Gavin also chuckled. This guy wasn't bad. For a bum bandit.

"So, how long you been with your girlfriend?" he challenged.

Ben squirmed. Ouch. Mark was big downstairs. And he guessed instantly Troy was fishing. Being a detective tended to make you recognise this in others.

Gavin spotted the guilty shuffle. OK maybe Jones wasn't such a nice bloke. Playing with men behind his girlfriend's back.

"She's...just a friend," Ben said.

"I saw you holding her hand in the church," Gavin went on, "Nice girl. Well spoken."

"Met Sally on the last case," Ben replied, "SHe was the Fitzroy's housekeeper."

"Oh the impaled maid of honour? The old families are always the worst," Gavin said, "Boss doesn't like hookups with witnesses."

"Interested in my lovelife aren't you...mate?" Ben said.

"Cut the crap, Jones," Gavin hissed, "I know you were bumming in that toilet just now! I dropped my phone and saw you at it! Boss will kill you."

"Bumming? Seriously, are you at school still or something?" Ben was scarlet but defiant.

"Does he know? Does your girlfriend know?"

"Does Barnaby know you still want his daughter?" hit back Ben.

"You're a prick," Gavin spat, "A shirtlifting prick."

Troy and Jones stared one another down. Ben was SO tempted to punch this Northern arsehole right in the smug face. He knew nothing about him!

But a brawl would just be a bad idea.

Ben stormed off to sit down somewhere else; Gavin continuing to glower at him from the bar.

"Where have you been?" asked a female voice as a swish of white floated down next to him.

"Oh hi Cully," Ben said, "Just...mingling."

"See you've met Gavin," she said, "He can be a bit...abrupt. Barks worse than his bite, Dad always said. Never forgave him for kissing me but that was ancient history!"

"Did you know a guy called Mark at Uni?" asked Ben.

Cully giggled.

She didn't need to do too much maths to work this one out.

"Oh come on Ben, out with it," she said, "You told me, you surely need to tell Dad by now."

"But what's it got to do with work? He thinks I'm going out with Sally Fielding now and doesn't ask questions."

"I wondered where Mark had gone...bad boys," giggled Cully, "He does like policemen. That's how we made friends..."

"He wasn't after your dad surely?" Ben was shocked.

"He likes older men," Cully said, "Except that I said that no way would I let that happen. He always was a bit of a bad boy."

"What does he do?" asked Ben.

"Don't suppose you got down to that stage did you?" scoffed Cully, "He's a hotelier for one of the nicest hotels in Cambridge. I should warn you...he's a player. He's one of my best friends. But he's a player. Don't expect marriage."

"Not looking for marriage right now," Ben shrugged.

"Surely soon, right?" Cully said, "At least act like you are...keeps mum from nosing. Bless her. See you later."

She got to her feet and went to go mingle with some more guests. Ben glanced across the tables and spotted Mark. Who caught his eye and winked. Ben should have given him his number.

Ben grinned back.

Mark made a subtle gesture with his hand.

Ben gaped.

Mark made it again.

"I can't!" mouthed Ben.

Yes he could. He was off duty. He'll make an exit. Finish what they started in more comfortable surroundings. He got to his feet and shuffled across the dance floor, past the buffet table and towards the exit, mainly before his boss or Joyce spotted him and asked questions. He tapped a text to Sally.

_Hey. Met someone. If boss asks make something up. Thanks 4 coming. See you soon x_

Sally replied instantly.

_Trust u! Fine OK. Don't wear yourself out Xx_

Ben chuckled to himself. He had a few months of frustration to work out so that was no problem. That was the downside of being a sergeant. Playtime was somewhat limited. He slipped into the foyer. Mark wasn't there.

The man appeared a few minutes later.

"Good boy," he smirked.

"Watch it," Ben said, "I'm older than you, remember."

"Truncheon away copper, you're off duty," smirked Mark.

He was so cheesy but Ben liked that. Made light of the darker moments of being in CID. He followed this well groomed and hot posh guy up the stairs until they located Mark's hotel room. Immediately Ben's lips were claimed and he was fiercely kissing back, making fast work of Mark's suit...damn...toned pecs, defined abs...Ben was starting to feel self conscious. He undressed anyway and allowed Mark to pull him onto the bed where they ground their bodies together fervently.

Ben crawled down the toned, muscled body and took his hookup's length into his mouth.

* * *

Next morning Ben awoke to his mobile ringing.

He rubbed his eyes.

He hadn't slept much.

And his arse was pleasantly sore.

Mark was a brute.

Just what he needed.

He took his phone and pushed answer.

"Jones.." he grumbled.

"Jones! Where the hell are you?" barked Tom's voice.

"Sir...sorry...must have slept in late..." Ben mumbled guiltily.

"You were expected at the station half an hour ago!" Tom snapped, "I hope that Sally Fielding isn't going to be making you late!"

"Sorry sir...I'll be there," Ben said, insides burning with guilt. Ooops. Still at least that prick Troy hadn't blabbed to Barnaby about him. He found his briefs (yes, so what, you couldn't see them under his work clothes) and slipped them on. Actually, where was Mark?

No sign of anything.

As Ben dressed he realised he had a text message.

He opened it.

_Hi copper ;) Had a great night. Like to see you again sometime. Had to dash off early, rota cock up. Sorry x_

Charming. Fucked him and then fucked off. Wasn't the first time that had happened. Ben hurriedly dressed before leaving the hotel room. At least a chambermaid didn't catch him asleep or something. How embarrassing would THAT be?

He rushed down into the foyer and out into the car park, looking for his grey Ford Focus. He couldn't drive to Causton fast enough. At least he'd missed the rush hour traffic. Ben parked up, sprinted through the doors and hurrying to CID. The place went quiet. He was never late. And certainly never showed up unshaven and in last night's clothes...

"Ah, Jones, nice of you to drop in," snarked Tom.

"Sir," mumbled Ben, sinking into his seat.

"A word if you don't mind?" Tom's deadpan tone failed to mask his annoyance. He'd expected so much more of Jones than to gallivant around with young pretty housekeepers. Unbecoming of a detective sergeant. But then was everyone as workaholic as him? He supposed he was getting old.

Like a schoolboy off to see the headmaster, Ben skulked behind his boss into Tom's office and shut the door.

He could feel the snickers of their colleagues boring through the glass. Especially Gail Stephens who nursed a crush on Ben and was pigsick with jealousy when she'd found out he'd got with Sally Fielding and taken HER to Cully's wedding.

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Barnaby.

"Overslept that's all, sir."

"You got into a fight with Troy at Cully's wedding and all," Barnaby hissed.

"Hardly" scoffed Ben.

"It doesn't help that there's been rumours flying around the station all morning," Barnaby went on.

Ben gulped.

What rumours?

He'd tried to slip out of the reception as discreetly as he could last night. And it wasn't his fault Mark was such good sex he'd decided to stay to enjoy room service and then a sexy shower...and then round two much later...OK maybe it was.

"Rumours, sir?"

"Never mind," snapped Barnaby, "You were supposed to be in at ten to write up the Fitzroy case. I don't want you seeing that Sally Fielding anymore. You're thirty-six years old and a detective sergeant, not a teenager. Not to mention she was a witness. What if it had been a crime scene?!"

"Sorry sir. Won't happen again."

"I should think not. Now get on with the writeup."

"Any developments since Sir Edward's arrest and charge sir?"

"No. He's given a statement and case is closed. Now get back to your work Jones."

"Sir."

Ben left, face burning. Well and truly told off. At least his boss...for now...didn't know the truth. That he'd been up most of the night being shagged by his boss's daughter's old Uni friend. Male uni friend. Ha.

* * *

The writeup took longer than it should. Ben's mind kept drifting away to Mark. Would he be able to see Mark again? Causton was hardly a big pond of available fish. It was idyllic other than that problem. Which was why Ben was craving a long term partner. He was sick of travelling to Brighton or surrounding counties after cruising on Gaydar. But he couldn't keep all his eggs in one basket. Small rural towns were gossip haven.

At last Ben finished the write up. He saved the file and printed it. Just in time for lunch.

Once he'd filed it and labelled it in the correct manner, he padded nervously to Barnaby's office. Feeling once more like the kid handing his homework to the teacher.

He knocked.

"Come in."

"Sir...the Fitzroy case all written up."

"Thank you Jones. Fancy a pub lunch?"

"Er...OK sir.."

"The tired cheese sandwiches get a bit samey don't you think Jones?"

Tom did have a strange wit sometimes. But he wasn't the most adventerous diner. Still if they served chicken pie at this pub...

"Er...sure sir."

"SKipping breakfast isn't the best practice either."

"Any reason for this pub lunch sir?"

"Just a catch up with an old colleague."

Ben scowled.

Not that prick Troy?

"Problem, Jones?"

"Not at all sir."

* * *

**Fairly pleased with how this went. You can see possibly where this is going. I've only touched upon what Ben is like outside of policing (maybe I should watch more episodes...I know he's also a former Freemason) and that's obviously totally invented by me. I like to imagine he's a bit of a naughty boy in the sack as well ;) The OC Mark won't appear again, he was just a device to show how Ben gets his man. I thought I'd just tie him in loosely by making him an old uni friend of Cully. I like the idea that Cully is Ben's fag hag!**

**Been easier to write than I first thought! Seen enough episodes to write in the quirks of the characters, like Joyce not being the best cook, Tom being a meat and two veg sort of guy etc. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_Starting to get into this now. Been such a refreshing change from my usual WWE fare. And much easier to write Brit English than American English as well!_

_Another brief OC character but with this genre I imagine it's OK. Especially now ideas are flooding in. After all, this stems from a crime drama. This chapter is a bit naughtier and is why I gave this an M rating._

* * *

"Bledlow again sir? Thought you'd seen enough of this place?" Ben remarked as his boss's black Jaguar X-Type pulled in outside a pretty redbrick building with ivy festooning the outside.

"The Red Lion, thought the menu sounded good," Barnaby said, "Though I can't deny I have seen enough of this village."

"So why here sir?"

"Told you, meeting an old colleague," Barnaby replied, switching the engine off and climbing out.

"Yeah...you did mention it," Ben muttered, also exiting the black saloon and following his elder boss inside.

It was a charming little pub, Ben admitted. All claret carpets, timber framed walls, exposed beams and dark, cosy little corners. Unless his boss was taking him on a date...no, don't be so paranoid.

A tall dark man was standing at the bar, nursing a pint.

"Troy," Tom said in greeting.

"Afternoon sir," grinned Gavin shaking Tom's hand, "See you brought your assistant along."

He couldn't fail to hide the resentment in his voice. Tom noted this. He was determined these two will get along during this. He was too old to be caught in the middle of some stupid petty dispute.

"Afternoon...Troy," snarked Ben, offering his hand to that jumped up prick he'd met yesterday.

Gavin shook it, briefly scowling. Cocky dickhead. Fucking queer. And he was wearing yesterday's clobber. Bet he was up all night bumming that posh twerp friend of Cully's. Disgusting.

"So how long until you head back to...where is it you're posted again?" asked Tom.

"Brackhampton CID," Gavin said, "Annual leave. Got the rest of this week off. Even turned my work phone off. Wanted a break."

"Admire you for that Troy, being able to disconnect from the force," Tom said, ordering drinks and paying.

"You did leave your own wedding early to work," Gavin replied, "Wonder how long before someone else gets offed and you'll have to go?"

"Brackhampton boring is it?" asked Tom.

"Well...yes and no," Gavin said, "Kinda miss finding out the dirty dealings of the WI and the country set though. Gets a bit boring having to bang up kids knifing one another over what slags they got pregnant this week. Or nicking schoolkids for a few bags of weed."

"Inner city Troy, comes with the territory," Tom said.

"Last case was really fucked up," Gavin replied, "Surprised it didn't make national news, this dirty old PE teacher was touching up lads...been doing it on and off since the early Nineties. Latest lad he was knocking off said no...so he cut him limb from limb."

"Thought you said Brackhampton was boring?" Tom raised an eyebrow. After decades investigating the most gruesome of killings it was rare for tales like this to shock him. He noted Jones was looking uncomfortable.

"Wouldn't call it exciting, it was like the Moors Murders...he'd got two more lads buried in his back garden," Gavin said grimly, "Partly why I took leave. This case fucked me up. Dirty fucking shirtlifter. Always the PE teachers, haven't you noticed? Can't get any elsewhere so go to schools for easy pickings."

Ben had heard enough. He slammed his pint glass on the table and stormed out of the pub in disgust. He could see the smirk just lifting the corner of Troy's mouth the whole he was telling Tom about this 'last case'. Bet it was all a load of bullshit just to get his hackles raised! Bastard.

If Ben smoked he'd probably be lighting three at a time right now just to simmer down. Either that or glass that dickhead's face in. Maybe it was tiredness making him more irritable.

He leaned on the peeling whitewashed low fence of the pub and huffed.

"Not want to be here?" asked a voice.

Ben looked up at the barman who'd snuk out for a quick cigarette.

"Well didn't want to say no the boss," he admitted, "Can I have one...don';t usually.."

"Course mate," the barman said, offering Ben the box.

The Welshman took it and the lighter the guy offered and lit up. He hadn't smoked in a while and thanked his lucky stars he didn't start hacking like a preteen trying their first fag.

"You were one of the coppers sniffing round the Fitzroys," remarked the barman.

"Yeah, ugh, upper classes," huffed Ben, "All shagging around and toffee noses. Yuck. Old money doesn't buy taste."

"Didn't fancy our new Lady Fitzroy then?" grinned the barman.

"Who? Beth? Nah," Ben said, grinning back.

"Better get back to your boss," replied the barman, stubbing his cigarette out and heading inside. Ben quickly disposed of his before reluctantly rejoining Tom and Troy.

"Feeling ill Jones?" remarked Tom.

"Just wanted some air," Ben said, burying his head in the menu.

"I bet you did," snarked Troy.

Ben huffed, shaking his head. This guy was a pain in the arse. He didn't need this.

Tom was trying not to notice the daggers his former and current sidekicks were shooting one another. Grown men acting like squabbling kids. He couldn;'t understand what the problem was. They seemed to hit it off at the wedding. Until Cully mentioned they were quarrelling at the bar. Wonder what about? Probably a woman. It's what men usually fought over. Or money.

"Another drink?" Ben said loudly, slamming his menu down.

"No thanks...mate," sneered Troy.

"Sure," Barnaby said amiably, "Thank you Jones."

"Trying to get back into your good books sir," Troy went on. He was having far too much fun taking the piss out of that queer. He was off duty. He could behave how he wanted (within legal reasons obviously. Not like Jones could punch him as he was on duty).

Ben wished he wasn't working as he could murder something stronger than a half pint of this local ale.

"Two orange juices please," he said.

"On duty?" asked the barman.,

"Always," sighed Ben.

"Four fifty please," the barman said. Ben handed him a tenner. As the till rung, Ben thought he was taking a bit too long with the change. The barman placed the coins into Ben';s hand and tipped him the wink.

Ben tipped the change back into his wallet and noted a scrap of paper with a mobile number on.

He looked incredulously up at the barman.

The barman smiled.

"I get off at two," he said.

Ben grinned back.

"On duty till eight," he replied.

"Be naughty, go on," hissed the barman.

"Can't...boss will see me."

"And then he might spank you for being a bad boy," grinend the barman.

Ben blushed and grinned back. Had he been THAT obvious when they walked in?

He leaned over the bar.

"How could you tell?" he asked.

"Saw your profile on Gaydar," the barman said.

"Oh, did you now," Ben beamed, "Like what you see then?"

"Very much," the barman said, "Hear you like to sing too."

"Shush, boss can see," giggled Ben. Wait did he just GIGGLE? Oh shit. He was terrible. His hormones must still be racing after the seeing to he got last night. Twice in two days. Men were like buses sometimes.

"Hurry up Jones before we get called away," Barnaby called.

Ben smiled apologetically at the barman who made a 'call me' gesture at him as he got busy wiping the beer pumps down, showing a hint of flexing bicep as he did so. Ben nodded eagerly before sitting back down.

"Know him do you?" asked Tom sharply.

"No," Ben said, "Ooh what's on the specials board?"

He was flustered. And when he got flustered a touch of campness and a heavier Welsh brogue left him.

Gavin just pursed his lip. That guy was a slag and all. Even HE never chatted girls up whilst on duty. Most of the time. His poor girlfriend.

* * *

Amazingly, they managed to actually finish lunch without a single call to Tom's phone. Or Ben's. Tom noted that for some reason this only ever seemed to happen when he was trying to have a meal with Joyce. And this chicken pie was rather good. Dare he say it, better than Joyce's. No. Be easier all round if he pretended hers was the best. Something about Jones was off. He couldn't tell what it was. The guy had NEVER been late before. He'd had girlfriends as far as Tom knew but he'd never not shown up because of one. And he was acting different. Why was he so hostile to Troy? He knew Troy could have a big mouth but Tom never thought Jones to be so, well, sensitive. He didn't expect his juniors to tell him everything about their personal lives but Jones had eaten at his and Joyce's home often enough for Joyce to fuss over him like a mother hen.

As they cleared their plates, Tom left to make a phone call to CID.

Leaving Gavin and Ben alone.

"Don't you wanna knock off and shag the barman, queerboy?" snarled Gavin.

"You know nothing about me...mate," snapped Ben.

"I know enough," Gavin replied, "What did you tell your girlfriend last night then?"

"She's not my bloody girlfriend...not that its any of your business!" Ben scowled.

"So you're using her to prevent Barnaby finding out you're a fag!" Gavin said incredulously, "When you were fucking giving your number to that bloke behind the bar who's probably got a wife and kids!"

"Why are you so interested in my love life, huh?" challenged Ben, folding his arms, "Anyone would think you wanted a piece of me yourself."

"Urgh, please...I've just eaten," spat Gavin, "What is it with you homos, huh? Convinced every other bloke on the planet's one as well! You're obsessed."

"Grow up...Inspector," sneered Ben.

He checked his phone. Two o' clock already.

He got to his feet. Fuck it. He was going to take the barman up on his offer.

"Where you going?" demanded Gavin.

"Police business," lied Ben, "And because you make me sick."

"Barnaby will murder you."

"I'm sure he'll cope without me for a while," Ben said, throwing a twenty pound note onto the table to pay for his share of lunch. He was playing with so much fire right now. But anything to get away from this dickhead Troy. Ben hadn't wanted to punch a guy's head in so bad since that Randall Colquhoun. Oh arresting him had been so much fun. He wondered how old Colky-hown was doing mixing with the peasant herds in jail. How did Barnaby stand this guy? And what the hell had Cully seen in him? Ben didn't know. Or care right now.

He pulled his jacket on over his gold waistcoat from the wedding and left the pub. He reached into his pocket and took out the piece of paper with the number on it. He dialled.

"Hello?"

"Hi..it's me..._you gave_ me this number just now."

"Oh...sexy copper. I live on Yewtree Drive. Not far."

"Walking distance?"

"Yeah. See you soon."

"See ya."

Ben knew that this sort of hooking up was archaic these days but with the potential of the next big murder showing up any minute he had to make the most of every encounter. He'll take the bollocking from Barnaby later. He walked down the quiet lane until he saw the sign for Yewtree Drive. He walked up the small street of houses...all three of them.

He dialled the number again.

"Hi sexy," drawled the barman.

"Hi...what one is it?"

"Number two."

"Cool."

Ben hung up and knocked the door of number two. Should have guessed with the two seater parked outside really. The door opened and the handsome blonde barman answered.

"Hi," Ben said.

"Hi...come on in."

Ben wiped his feet and stepped over the threshold.

"Tea?" asked the barman.

"Sure..thanks," Ben said, "You know I may not be able to stay long...boss will wonder where I am."

"Sneak away eh? You are a naughty boy!" chuckled the barman.

"Suppose it's a bit late to ask your name seeing as I'm in your house," Ben quipped, placing his shoes by the door.

"Timothy Fowler...call me Tim," the barman said, walking into the smartly appointed (and very modern) kitchen. No straight man would have a house this immaculately decorated, Ben thought; "What's yours?"

"Ben Jones, AKA Detective Sergeant Jones," Ben replied.

"Cute," Tim said, "Sarge."

"Please don't," Ben sighed, "Call me Ben."

"Sugar, Ben?" asked Tim.

"Yeah.." Ben replied.

"Join me upstairs?"

"Sure..."

OK this wasn't normally how it went. But some guys had weird little things, Ben had found in his time.

Once the tea was made, Ben followed Tim upstairs into the bedroom. Beautifully kept and furnished of course. There was a photo on the wall. A professional family portrait. Tim looked very different. He was sat with a very attractive brunette woman and two mousy haired young girls.

"Who's that?" asked Ben.

"My wife Brigitte and daughters," Tim said.

Ben choked on the hot tea.

"Wife...and daughters?!" he spluttered.

"Ex wife," Tim said, a note of melancholy in his voice, "It's an old photo."

"1989? How old are you?" gasped Ben.

"I married young," TIm sighed, "I'm fifty. That put you off?"

"No way..." gasped Ben, "You look good for it...what happened to er...Brigitte?"

"Left me," sighed Tim, "She caught me with the milkman."

Ben spat more tea through his nose. Really? The milkman? He thought it was one of those cliched old wives tales. Lord knows he'd heard enough messy affairs in his time. But never the old chestnut of 'she left me for the milkman'. The husband screwing the milkman was a new one.

"I know what you're thinking," Tim sighed, "I like it here in Bledlow."

"Do you still see your girls?" asked Ben.

"Occasionally...it was sixteen years ago now...they're both grown up now. Monica and Sandra. Brigitte still lives in Midsomer Worthy with Sandra. Monica's got a son. I'm a grandad but I'm not allowed to see him. Gets lonely here."

Ben was unsure if this was really what he wanted. He thought it would be just another roll in the hay. But this guy was telling him his life story. Tim was very good looking for fifty. No grey, nice build and well-trimmed goatee.

Tim began to shed his orange polo shirt and fitted slim fit jeans, along with his socks. He was just in tight black designer boxers. One thing Ben was sure of, he looked after himself. He was toned.

"Sit with me Ben," Tim said.

Ben began to undress, figuring that's what Tim wanted. He saw Tim's eyes light up at the sight of his red briefs. Ben was decidedly uncomfortable doing anything under the smiling gaze of Tim's wife and daughters.

"Can you...cover it or something?" asked Ben.

"Why?"

"Because...well..."

"I;m not ashamed of who I was, Sergeant," Tim said, "Are you ashamed?"

"No!"

"Then sit with me, please."

Ben lay on the bed, allowing Tim to put an arm around him.

"How old are you Ben?" asked Tim, peppering Ben's dark hair with kisses.

"THirty six," Ben replied.

"A young un, been a while since I had one," Tim sighed mournfully, kissing Ben's hair some more before moaning and taking Ben's face in his hands before devouring his lips.

Ben moaned in reply. OK this guy might be a bit creepy but damn could he kiss.

And he was flattered at being called a 'young un'.

THese country folk...

Ben knew Barnaby would already be getting suspicious. He had to get a move on. No time for romance. Just get on with it.

He crawled seductively across the bed, bending down, his pert, brief-clad arse facing Tim. He craned his neck, arching his back to shoot a 'come get me' look at the blonde man.

"You are a naughty boy," Tim purred, unable to resist this minx's gaze and yanking Ben's briefs down, causing Ben to moan as Tim began to touch between his legs.

Shit.

Ben realised he had no condoms.

Mark had provided them last night.

Bollocks.

He sat up.

"I can't," he said.

"Why not?" asked Tim.

"No...johnnies."

"I'm allergic to latex...c'mon Benjamin, I'm lonely," Tim said, "I need to love someone again."

Ben shuddered.

Creepy.

But he was horny.

He'll take a risk just this once.

He pinned Tim to the bed and bit on Tim's waistband, yanking the boxers down. Tim just threw his head back and let this little shiny badged vixen go to work.

Ben began to suck Tim off, lubricating him as he did so. He'd been told he was good at head.

* * *

"What do you mean police business, Troy?!" snapped Barnaby, "Tell me where Jones vanished to!"

"I don't know sir," Gavin said, "Honestly, I don't!"

"What did you say to him?" demanded Tom.

"I said nothing! He walked off and told me to tell you to call him. Said it was fine and above board."

Gavin wished he;d not been such a prick now. He didn't particularly want his old boss to be pissed off with him. And if this led to a crime...he was off duty! He could lose his job!

"Well you can help me find him...and when we do...Ben Jones will be lucky to find a job as a cleaner in Causton CID!" snarled Tom, unusually fierce.

"Sure it's nothing sir," Gavin said. This felt almost like old times.

"A detective sergeant on duty sneaks away with telling his chief inspector and gives a false answer! It's a lot more than 'nothing' Troy! Haven't your learned anything?"

"No sir."

"We'll scour this whole bloody village until we find Jones."

Gavin sighed and followed Tom to the Jaguar.

* * *

Ben was on all fours on the foot of the bed, moaning and mewling in ecstasy as his older hookup slowly thrust in and out of him. Tim might be a creep but he was touching Ben's spot so good. He was such an attentive...caring...lover.

"Feel good Benjamin?" purred Tim.

"Oh yeah...don't stop," moaned Ben.

Ben was such a slut. He hadn't done two in two days since training college years.

He had to come soon. Before the fucking search parties were sent out.

He kneeled up so their bodies were now parallel to one another.  
Tim moaned in his ear.

"Good boy..."

Ben was jerking himself off.

Tim slapped his hand away.

"Let me, just enjoy it darling," purred Tim into his ear, slowly thrusting in and out of Ben's perfect arse, closing his fingers around Ben's length and slowly jerking the base. Ben moaned and whined louder. Oh yes...this guy knew how to please. He was getting so close.

So close.

But he had to get out of here.

The risks you take for some good sex.

Tim began to moan louder.

"Ohh...Ben...I can't last..."

Shit.

No.

Mark had made Ben come both times.

Ben began to move his hips back and forth.

"Oh you're a fesity little tart aren't you?" moaned Tim, panting to keep up, still jerking Ben off, "Letting off steam are we?"

"Yeah,...oh yeah..." Ben was now thinking of last night...Mark...how Mark had just thrown him down and destroyed him. Oh yes. Yes.

He cried out as his orgasm exploded through his body, spraying the duvet in front of them.

Tim gasped as he watched his young pickup climax...and it wasn't long before he too, went over the edge, driving inside Ben and climaxing within.

Ben was gasping.

Oh fuck.

He'd jsut let this creep come inside him.

He had to get dressed and get out of here.

Tim pulled out, gasping.

Ben immediately began to furiously dress.

"Where you going? Stay with me!" pleaded Tim.

"You're weird!" Ben spat, "If you've given me anything...you know nothing about me! How do you know I haven't got it!"

"We'd have talked about this in time!" Tim said, "Please...I'm lonely!"

"Ring your bloody wife!" snarled Ben, slamming the door and sprinting down the stairs. He had to high tail the hell out of this gaff. Guess karma had just got him for sneaking off during police time to get laid. Not only was the guy old (albeit young looking for his age) he was a bit...Fatal Attraction. Ben had seen that film. No thanks. He barely had his feet in his black shiny shoes before he was sprinting out of the house onto the street.

He legged it back onto the main high street towards the pub.  
No.

Fuck.

Where was Barnaby's Jag?

Oh bollocks.

Now he'd have to call the boss to face the music.

He took his phone from inside his jacket and dialled, shutting his eyes and holding his breath. Awaiting the firestorm.

"JONES!" roared Barnaby's voice.

"Hello sir..."

"Where the HELL have you been?!"

Ben didn't think he'd seen the boss lose his shit this much. Ever.

"Thought I saw something...turned out to be nothing."

"Likely story! You went back to that Sally Fielding's place didn't you!"

"No sir...!"

"Where the hell are you now?"

"Back at the Red Lion sir.."

"Stay where you are or I'll arrest you for wasting police time!"

The line went dead. Ben knew he was in a shit load of trouble now.


End file.
